His Wide Open Smile
by MsBarrows
Summary: Written for the Dragon Age Rare Pair Exchange on Tumblr - a rare OT3 of Fenris, Isabela and Zevran.


"You're certain?" Isabela asked quietly, rolling over so that she could see Fenris' eyes.

"Yes," he said, nodding jerkily. "I know how important Zevran is to you. If this... if sharing our bed with him will make you happy, I am willing to at least try it."

Isabela smiled warmly at Fenris, and moved closer to him, enough so that she could hook an arm and a leg over him. "Only if you're certain it will not make _you_ unhappy," she said. "You barely know him." Which was true; apart from the many stories she'd told him over the years, Fenris' knowledge of Zevran was limited to only a few day's acquaintance, since Zevran had boarded their ship the week before to travel from Treviso back south to Ferelden. _Their_ ship, since she'd insisted on making Fenris part-owner of the Siren after he'd paid for their repairs and resupply several years back, following a rather disastrous encounter with an Orlesian convoy near Val Chevin.

"I trust your knowledge of him," Fenris said calmly, and lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug before continuing. "I trust from what you have said of his skill in bed that I will likely find the encounter... physically pleasurable, at the very least." He paused, and then smiled at her, the warm open smile that was still rare enough from him to take her breath away every time she saw it. "I trust that _you_ will most thoroughly enjoy the proceedings as well, and there is much I would be willing to do to make you happy."

Isabela smiled back, and hugged him tightly. "Fool. Not that I'm fool enough in turn to say no. Especially since... well, it's _Zevran._ I'm certain that _physically pleasurable_ is a gross understatement of how his abilities will make you feel. Especially combined with my own," she added, knowing she was at least as skilled in bed as the assassin. "Tonight?"

"Tonight," Fenris agreed.

Isabela smiled. "I'll invite him for dinner then."

Fenris smiled, his more usual little crooked smile, and rolled over to kiss her. "I shall look forward to it," he told her, and warmly enough that she believed that he actually would. Doubtless Zevran's careful flirtation with Fenris since boarding – involving little open flirtation, but instead a great deal of talk about weapons and methods, and some brief sparring – had at least piqued his curiosity.

Given her own lengthy past with Zevran, her occasional rival, infrequent lover, and long-time friend, she was certainly looking forward to tonight herself.

* * *

A knock at the door. Isabela rose, letting her fingertips trail reassuringly across Fenris' back as she slipped past him to go and answer, feeling the tension in his muscles, for all that he looked calm, relaxed.

Zevran smiled as she opened the door, looking pleased. Pleased with her, with himself, with the anticipation of the night ahead. He'd brought offerings of his own for their dinner, a small bottle of a particularly fine vintage of Antivan brandy, and a larger one of wine, a northern red from Rivain, of a red so dark it seemed almost purple-black. Neither was an inexpensive gift. They kissed cheeks, and then she led him to the table, waving him into the near chair and moving past Fenris to resume her own seat.

Fenris' eyes lit up as Zevran placed the bottles on the table; he knew the wine, rare as it was. It brought him to life, hastily rising to fetch proper glassware for it before carefully removing the cork. He poured out a taste, eyes half-lidded in pleasure as he swirled it, sniffed, tasted. "That will need to breath for a little while before we drink it," he said authoritatively as he set the empty glass back down.

Zevran smiled, looking thoroughly pleased by the enthusiastic reception of his gift. Isabela wondered if he'd planned it as a gift for them, or for someone back in Ferelden; likely someone in Ferelden, she thought, the elf having seemed surprised to find her ship at dock when he'd come looking for swift passage south.

A couple of crew members delivered their dinner, a crock of stew and a basket of freshly baked bread, with a salad of sprouts mixed with shaved hard cheese and chopped nuts; the Siren's cook was rather highly paid for his skill at serving good meals even when long at sea. The stew was based around some reasonably fresh mutton, bargained for off a barge carrying stock from Rivain to market in Antiva whose path they'd crossed two days before. Zevran, she knew, would doubtless have preferred something fish-based and spicy, but Fenris would almost rather starve than eat fish. The meal was good, and by the time they'd eaten their salads – crunchy, with a pleasantly piquant dressing of olive oil and cask-aged vinegar – the wine had breathed enough to be poured. Its tart dryness went well with the rich stew, and they were all in a pleasant mood by the time they were wiping the last traces of gravy out of their bowls with thick slices of the nutty brown bread.

They had the brandy for dessert, out of very small glasses, while nibbling on dried fruits – figs and dates, mostly, though there was also some cherries and prunes, and what Isabela thought was likely the last of the apple rings, going dark and wizened with age. She made a mental note to restock on them when they reach Ferelden; the cook makes a number of marvellous dishes out of them.

They'd kept the conversation light until now, mostly talk of old adventures, occasionally a bit of gossip about people they knew in common, or merely knew of. Isabela drank the last little bit out of her glass, then rose smoothly to her feet. "Time to take this elsewhere," she said, making eye contact with both men in turn. Zevran smiled, toothily; Fenris flushed, and bit his lower lip momentarily before rising with equal grace, head nodding just slightly in agreement. "This way," Isabela said, and led the way through the curtain-draped doorway into the bedroom.

It was a small room, space in the ship being at a premium, with much of the floor being taken up by the sizable bed that she and Fenris share. There was storage built in underneath the bed and to either side of the door, all their belongings neatly put away out of sight apart from a few mementos hanging on the walls or on display on the single long shelf gracing one wall. The windows at the aft end of the room showed that it was already twilight outside. Fenris lowered the lamp and lit it, while Isabela turned down the bed.

"Shall we undress ourselves, or each other?" Zevran asked, in a voice betraying only intellectual curiosity. Isabela grinned, hearing the purring note in it that betrayed just how interested he was in their answer.

Fenris looked back and forth between the two of them, then shrugged, and voiced what Isabela was already thinking. "I would be agreeable to either."

"Each other, then," Isabela said firmly, and started unlacing the neck of Fenris' shirt. Zevran reached for her own laces. Fenris, after barely a pause, did the same for Zevran.

They all succeeded in getting in each other's way as they unlaced and unbuckled and undid each other's clothing, trading around who they were working on stripping down as relevant bits and pieces of each other proved to be in convenient reach. There was no annoyance or irritation in that, however, as they all used it as an excuse for exploratory touching, for holding and stroking and, occasionally, a brief kiss or lick. Isabela ended up being the last to be completely undressed, her garments having far more fastenings than the mens did, despite their seeming simplicity. She liked that, being between the two of them as they skinned her out of the last of her undergarments, the two elves repeatedly stealing glances at each other as their hands skimmed over her skin. She allowed it for a while, watching the two of them flush with arousal, feeling heat building in her own body, then moved back, lowering herself to the bed and watching as they both paused, looking fully at each other.

They looked gorgeous, was her thought, similar but different; Fenris tall and lanky, his olive complexion crossed by the curving lines of lyrium inlaid in his flesh, Zevran all golden hair and skin and eyes, shorter and more muscular, a swirl of black tattoos curling around his body in a graceful sweep that started at his left shoulder and wrapped down and around under his right arm, across the top of his buttocks, and around his left hip to end somewhere on his inner thigh. Fenris was looking at the dark swirling shapes with uneasy interest, his own experiences meaning that he was always made nervous by such markings, even after having lived among heavily tattooed sailors for some years now.

"Would you like to touch?" Zevran asked invitingly, and after only a brief hesitation Fenris did so, long fingers slowly tracing the path of the shapes across Zevran's chest and down, pausing eventually with his fingers resting on Zevran's ribs, mere inches away from Zevran's visibly peaking nipple. The two elves exchanged a long, silent look, then Zevran leaned slowly forwards, turning his face upwards, and Fenris leaned down to kiss him. Isabela watched, feeling her own arousal increase as she watched her two favourite men kissing and touching each other, knowing they would soon be kissing and touching her as well.

When the kiss finally ended, Zevran turned and looked at her, and his smile said that he was well-aware of the effect watching the two of them together was having on her. "Isabela's turn, I think," he said, and Fenris made a sound of agreement, before the two of them moved to join her on the bed, one to either side of her.

For a while everything was touching hands and warm kisses, sometimes with tongue, sometimes with teeth, mostly the two men concentrating on her, and her dividing her affections between both of them. There were few sounds made by either of the men, each of them having their own reasons to stay quiet despite what was being done to them physically, in Fenris' case learned out of stubborn contrariness, in Zevran's because he was trained to silence as part of his upbringing as an assassin; when he makes noise during sex, it is always a deliberate performance, and he knew that he did not need to do so to please Isabela. Isabela purposefully made enough noise for all three of them, drawing a soft laugh from Zevran, a huff from Fenris.

She could tell that Fenris was interested in Zevran now, having been touched by him, having watched him handle her. Zevran was just as interested in turn, though he was being careful – at least to her eyes – not to show it too overtly, careful not to unsettle or frighten Fenris. She turned and wrapped her arms around Fenris, nuzzled at his neck, licked briefly at the smooth flesh between his markings in a way which she knew he enjoyed. "Would you like to be in the middle?" she asked.

Fenris tensed in her arms for a moment, lifted his head enough to look searchingly across her shoulder at Zevran. "I thought you would be," he said after a moment, hesitant, looking back at her.

Isabela shrugged, smiled. "Perhaps later I will be. But I would like very much seeing you between the two of us, and I believe you would enjoy it very much."

Fenris chewed on his lip again, eyes darkening, then most of the tenseness left him as he nodded. "I trust your instincts," he told her, and laughed as she promptly rolled over, pulling him along with her so that he landed between her and Zevran. Zevran grinned, shifting to make room, leaning down to kiss Fenris' neck, lip at the shell of his pointed ear.

They played with each other for a while, her and Zevran showering attentions on Fenris until he was relaxed again, eyes blown wide and dark, skin flushed to mid-chest. Isabela prepared him, knowing her familiar touch was less likely to disturb him than Zevran's might. Once he was ready they positioned themselves slowly and with care, Fenris sliding into her, her kissing and caressing him soothingly as Zevran slid into him in turn. They remained still a brief while, waiting until Fenris relaxed again, and after that... after that it was all the smooth drag of skin against skin, moans and gasps and occasional whimpers, touching, kissing. Isabela cupped Fenris' face between her two hands and watched entranced the expressions that flitted over it as everyone moved, his initial hesitancy and borderline fear melting away, replaced by what she could only think of as awed pleasure. When he came it was quietly by most standards, but the strangled cry was as good as a scream from more vocal partners.

They untangled themselves slowly and carefully afterwards, cleaning themselves up before cuddling together, Isabela back in the middle again, Fenris spooned at her back, Zevran lying on his side to face the two of them "Good?" he asked, with a wide, pleased grin.

"Mmmm. Very," Fenris agreed. And then, thoughtfully, "I wouldn't mind doing that again."

Isabela smiled, craned her head around enough to kiss his cheek. "I wouldn't mind doing that _and_ a lot of variations on the theme," she said smugly, pleased that Fenris had enjoyed the experience.

Zevran grinned. "There are many more nights until we will arrive in Ferelden," he pointed out.

"I might wish there were more," Fenris admitted, and smiled, his wide open smile.


End file.
